So, it's past Tuesday. Tuesday was the day I would know if things would be better or so I thought.

I got no word but there is nothing I can do about it.

It's not my shit; it's not my fan.

I've taken up ducking.


The rumor still is whispered that he's the fastest gun around, most folks don't doubt it when they first hear it, because they've heard the legend, but eventually, they want proof.

"He's fast and that's no joke." Someone will confirm. He'll never say a word. If they don't believe the stories as told by others, they won't believe him.

"He doesn't seem too fast anymore. I think he's lost it."

"That's what they all have said."

He wishes the legend would die.

...

There a battle against quietness.

Noise feeds off of noise.

Loud becomes louder.

A lone voice becomes voices

A talk becomes an argument

A melody becomes a maelstrom

I wish for a whisper